


Thespian Twinks (A Love Story)

by ravenbitch, TwoShakesofaLambsTail



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Acid-washed ripped jeans, Andrew Rannells - Freeform, Ben and Mike are in the orchestra, Beverly is Nancy, Beverly is a little gay, Bill is Bill Sykes, Character shoes, Eddie is Oliver, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Gay, Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue, I’m sorry they’re teens Bill Hader still owns my soul though, M/M, Oliver the musical, Reddie, Richie Is A Little Shit, Richie and Eddie centric, Richie is a triangle major, Richie is the Artful Dodger, Slow Burn, Stanley is Faggin, Teen losers club, Theatre, Theatre Kids, but it’s just a cameo lowkey, honestly not a crack fic we just don’t know how to write, jk...unless, r+e, we didn’t forget about them, we were going through an Oliver phase
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 08:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20945243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenbitch/pseuds/ravenbitch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoShakesofaLambsTail/pseuds/TwoShakesofaLambsTail
Summary: Richie and Beverly are the new kids at this radical performing arts school. Richie sees that short ass boy and is star struck. Eddie’s posey find Richie absolutely insufferable, but Eddie starts to feel a little differently after rehearsals for the fall musical, Oliver, start up. Will this prolific piece of literature with homoerotic undertones end with our two favorite theatre kids kissing? Probably baby. >:)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a year ago with my pal. I'm sorry the school is called rannells academy lol I can't help that I'm stupid and a theatre kid.

“You think there’s any lesbians in this school?”

“Bevie, deary, it’s a performing arts school. Everyone there is at least a little gay,” Richie sighs as he flips his turn signal on. 

“Well, dumbass, I know every guy is gay, everyone knows that. I mean the girls. What I’m saying is, is there any fuckin coochie in this school?” Bev replies. “It’s not that hard, Rich.”

Richie smiles. He’s been smiling all morning, for the most part. He’s been anticipating this day since May, when his acceptance letter arrived. He can hardly believe the day has finally come.

Richie and Bev have had their hearts set on this school since eighth grade. They’ve struggled through low quality high school productions, tap practice at the Y, and working at McDonalds to pay for vocal lessons. And they did it all hoping they would end up at the place they are today. After all that time, all those hours tapping in tap shoes a size too small, they’re finally arrived. 

He parks in front of the school and watches students walk in. Rannells Academy For The Performing Arts, the sign above the door reads. “Can’t wait to whip out my dick- I mean jazz shoes.” Richie smiles at Bev. Bev does not smile back. She looks almost nervous, an emotion which portrays itself on Beverly’s face as anger. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she stares at the sign that seems to tower above them. 

“Come on fuckface, we’re gonna miss first bell,” says Richie, pinching his friend's cheek. Beverly reluctantly smiles and follows him.

It only took them three years of applying, but they made it. With full rides, even. It barely even seems real to Richie. It looks like a normal modern high school on the inside, just like Derry Public High School, but with less asbestos in the walls. Even though they had toured the school before, it seems all new now that students fill the hallway. He pretends to check his class schedule on his phone, even though he already has it memorized. 

“Voice first period?” he asks Bev as he meanders past the students that fill the hall. 

“Shit. No, I’ve got math. They teach math at this fuckin school?” Bev jokes.

“You wouldn’t think they do, these kids look dumb as biscuits,” Richie replies, as he watches two boys fly past, one on the other's back. “Jesus. I fuckin hate theatre kids, you know that Beverly?”

“Richie, I know you hate yourself, but try to not think about that. This is a new start!” she smiles jokingly at him. Richie punches her arm, and ignores how she flinches at the sudden contact.

Richie stops in front of the door to his class. “Well, see you next period Beviepoo,” he says, and wraps her up in a hug. 

“Bye for now, Richiekins,” Bev replies before freeing herself and walking off towards her own class.

Richie steps into his class just before the bell rings. Almost all the seats in the semicircle around the piano are taken, except one in the third row. Most of the other students stall their (very loud and obnoxious) conversations and watch him out of the corner of their eyes. Theatre kids aren’t known for their subtlety, but Richie isn’t either. His bright hawaiian shirt goes to show that. 

Before he can whip out his phone to text Bev, the teacher walks in. She definitely seems the drama type. She reminds Richie vaguely of the drama teacher from High School Musical. I bet these kids looooove High School Musical, Richie thinks to himself. They probably think they’re really quirky when they perform Bet On It at cast parties when they could be doing something enjoyable, like maybe losing their virginity. He can’t believe he’s voluntarily attending a virgin-only high school. And yet, he’s happy about it. He's pulled out of his high school musical musings when the teacher asks the students to introduce themselves, and tell the class their, “creative passions.”

Most kids really like singing. Wow. Shocking. The kid sitting directly in front of him, who says his name is Bill, says, “I’ve always had an interest in acting,” but what he really says is, “I-I’ve always had an-an interest in a-acting.” Richie wants to make fun of him, but can’t, because, fuck, he admires the guts it must take to be a stuttering actor. The curly haired kid next to Bill tells the class about his devotion to the theatrical arts for a really weird thirty seconds and Richie wants to tell this kid, Stan, to take it down a notch, but doesn’t. New school, new reputation, man!

In his old school he had a reputation. He was kind of mean, and dumb even though he was smart, and couldn’t shut his mouth to save his life. But it was a new year! Now, he could just be one of the guys. One of the theatre-guys. Nothing up with him. Nobody's gonna think he sells drugs this year, even if he happens to do so on occasion.

“Richie, what about your passion?” the teacher says, with emphasis on passion, and Richie is yanked from his thoughts.

“Oh, hi! I’m Richie, I’m new here. I’m actually a triangle prodigy!” he says, smiling wide. Bill rolls his eyes at his friend, Stan, who spoke about his devotion to the theatrical blah blah blah who gives half a fuck.

“Excuse me?” the teacher asks.

“You know,” he mines hitting a triangle, “Metal thing, shaped like a hexagon? Wait, no, sorry. Shaped like a triangle,” Richie continues, aware of the grave he’s digging himself. 

“I,” the teacher starts but can’t seem to finish. Richie decides it’s about time to give up.

“Nevermind. I do musical theatre, who would’ve guessed, yahoo,” Richie says with a twirl of his hand, and slumps back in his chair. So much for his unscathed reputation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have auditions, baby. >:)

Eddie walks to his locker, the only one in the hall not personalized. It's something of a tradition in the school that the students get to show their creativity and interests by decorating their lockers however they like. Eddie never really cared about his locker. ‘It’s not like it matters. Everyone else’s will look better than mine anyway,’ Eddie had told Bill when he asked him why his locker was bland. Lockers are where you keep books. You get creative on stage.

“Hi Stanny!” Eddie calls as he slams his locker, “Where's your boyfriend?”

“He’s going over his monologue for the audition.” Says the curly haired boy. “There’s a new kid in my class and he's so fucking annoying. He said his name was Richie. He claimed he was a ‘triangle prodigy.’ God, you wouldn’t be able to stand him Eddie. Hopefully you don’t have any classes with him.” Eddie snorts under his breath. Triangle prodigy. That's almost funny. Almost. Eddie wouldn’t say it out loud, but sometimes Stan can't take a joke. And also, even though it’s dumb, the joke was something close to funny.

“So what does he look like? Y'know, so I can watch out for him.” Eddie asks as they walk down the hall to their second period class, dodging lingering students and freshman speed walking to class.

“He’s lanky, his limbs are long as hell, and he wears this ugly ass hawaiian shirt and inch thick glasses. And his hair is so messy.” Stan shivers. He hates a mess. The boys sit next to each other in the crowded classroom and chat until their teacher starts to talk about auditions for the fall show.

“Write this down everyone. I'm sick of you all asking me. For auditions you’ll need to have a 16 bar cut of a song and dance prepared along with a 60 to 90 second monologue.” The teacher says with a nasally voice that gives Eddie a migraine. He zones out and stares out the window. 

Time flies when you’re dreading something, so the auditions don’t take long to arrive. A week later, Eddie strides into auditions with Bill and Stan. He thinks about how not to fuck up his audition, and about the third line in his monologue that he can never remember, but mostly he thinks about the cute boy with coke bottle glasses standing near the wings of the stage.  
Bill stands next to Eddie in the audience wringing his hands. Eddie watches him mouth the words to his monologue. Almost like something he would say when they were younger. He thrusts his fists…

"You okay Big Bill?" asks Eddie.

"Y-yeah. I just really hope I don't s-s-stutter on stage," Bill says, and Eddie nods. He remembers when they were kids, they could pretend to be anyone on the playground, knights and heroes and kings. Now they were limited mostly to children and midgets on Eddie's part and stuttering, lanky teenagers for Bill. The market is slim.

The three of them stand in a line on the stage Chorus Line style with numbers pinned to their chests. 

There’s a loud voice cutting Eddie out of his thoughts and ending the incredibly loud conversation between the weirdly, almost offensively enticing guy and flaming fly girl.

“Alright, let’s get this over with," the director grumbles. He's sitting in the middle of the audience with a clipboard, one leg draped over the seat in front of him. He starts to whisper to the music director and choreographer as he eyes the line of anxious teens. 

After the first 10 agonizing minutes of girls singing the same songs over and over again, (Mostly Good Morning Baltimore, an occasional On My Own. You would think these kids would know better,) the director calls for number 104, Richie Tozier. The boy steps forward and Eddie gapes at him. He's so ugly. But like, hot. He's a weird malformed version of nerd-grunge-theatre kid. But he's also fucking annoying. Stan rolls his eyes when Richie speaks. Richie gives his monologue in a flawless COCKney accent.

“...By the way, if I’m introducing you to Mister Fagin, I better know who you are…” Richie recites confidently as Artful Dodger.

‘I hope he’s a FAGin…’ Eddie laughs in his head. Eddie recites his monologue, watches Stan recite his effortlessly, watches Bill muzzle through his. But his eyes keep slipping away from his friends to Richie, whose long limbs fly out in laughter when the redhead girl he's with whispers in his ear. When he sees them smile at each other, he ducks his head, staring down at his worn Adidas. Not that he cares about this kid. Not at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cast list baby ;)

While the rest of the school stumbles around in a panic waiting for the cast list to come out, Richie and Bev spend lunch attempting to determine why everyone hates them.

“It could be because you’re fucking annoying,” Bev tells Richie, and pops one of his chips into her mouth. The cafeteria roars around them with the sound of teenagers who lack an inside voice projecting against the cinder block walls.

“Well, it could be because they know we’re better than them. Or, well,” he pauses to snatch his bag of chips away from his friend, “They know that I’m better than them.” He smirks at her. Bev rolls her eyes. 

Bev looks around the cafeteria before turning back to Richie, “You’d think in a school where no one likes you, you’d be smart enough to be nice to your singular friend,” Bev says, pointing at him.

Gesturing to the empty seats at their table, Richie replies, “Bevie, my dear, haven’t you noticed I’ve got ladies crawling all over me?” He slips into a British accent, “Like weevils, they are.” Bev does not acknowledge his reply.

Richie turns to a blonde girl carrying a tray passing their table and winks at her. The girl tersely smiles at him, beofre turning to her friends. Richie sees her pretend to throw up into her mac and cheese. 

“See that Bev? Can’t get rid of em,” Richie leans back and puts his hands behind his head.

“Jesus Christ Rich, maybe the girls don’t want to be near your stench,” she says as she scoots away.

“I prefer to think of it as a masculine odor, but whatever you say,” says Richie as he leans into Bev, pulling playfully on her hair.

Across the cafeteria, a stampede broke out. Suddenly, every student in the cafeteria is speed walking towards the auditorium.

Bev turns to Richie. "Cast list?” 

“What the fuck else would it be? Free character shoes?” Richie smirks as he grabs Bev’s wrist and pulled her up. A small wince escapes Bev, and Richie drops her wrist. 

When the crowds clear out around the cast list, which takes roughly a full 24 hours, there’s only a few boys left crowding in front of the list. Richie recognizes some of them from his classes. There’s Bill and Stan, and an abnormally short yet adorable kid. Richie thinks for a second that he’s probably from the middle school, but then realizes he’s seen the kid in the hallways beofre . 

The short one has his hand on Bill’s shoulder, and Richie almost laughs at the height difference. “It’s okay dude. What’s the worst you could have gotten?” Richie slides past the boys with Bev just behind, and runs his finger down the list.

“Move over, fuckass,” Bev says, pushing Richie aside a tad to look at the list. Richie struggles against her and runs his finger down the list in search of their names.

“HOLY SHIT! YOU’RE NANCY!” Richie yells, grabbing Bev’s shoulders.

“YOU’RE DODGER!” Bev replies.

“REALLY?”

“YES!” 

Richie hugs Bev and recites their elaborate handshake beofre realizing that the other boys are still too fearful to check the list on their own.

“I definitely got ensemble. I mean, I’m too short to be any lead but Oliver. And I know I didn’t get Oliver, cause I fucked up my monologue,” the short kid says in an attempt to comfort Bill.

“Do you happen to be Edward Krispy Kreme?” Richie asks the kid. He then thinks to himself ‘FUCK, why would you make fun of a CUTE BOY!’

“Um… sure. I guess so?” he replies.

“Congrats Eds. You got Oliver,” Richie smiles at Eddie.

“HOLY SHIT! WOW! THAT’S GREAT!” Eddie says, jumping excitedly. He then turns to Richie and says, his face a mix of exhilaration and agitation 

"BUT DON’T CALL ME THAT!” 

“O-Oh my God, I can’t fucking l-look,” Bill buries his head in his hands. 

“I’ll look for you,” Richie skims the list for his name, “You’re Bill.”

“W-well shit, I fuckin k-know that, d-d-dude.”

“No, like, Bill as in Bill Sykes. You know,” Richie mimes hitting Bev, “Abuse guy.”

“OH S-SHIT!” He smiles and hugs Eddie, lifting the shorter boy off his feet. Stan watches them, clearly nervous about his own part.

“I didn’t forget you. Stan-the-Man. You’re,” Richie sees Stan cross his fingers, “Fagin!”

Eddie lets out a bark of a laugh, and covers his mouth. Stan groans.

“What’s wrong?” Bev asks, “You got a lead.” Bev sounds almost bitter.

“I’ve played a jew EVERY YEAR! God damn it. I’m sure Monty does it to spite me.”

“Well, to be fair, you also play a Jew in real life every year, so…” Eddie replies. Richie snorts

“Ha! Ed’s get off a good one!” Richie says and smiles at Eddie, but Eddie won’t look at him. Stan smacks the back of Eddie's head with a small bird book.

Richie feels Bev grab his arm. “Let’s go Rich.” As they walked back to the cafeteria, they hear the conversation behind them.

Richie hears Stan yell, “THIS IS TYPECASTING! IT’S NOT FAIR!” and laughs. 

“That Richie is kinda cute” he hears Eddie mumble sheepishly, “I think he’s funny” Richie's cheeks burn and a small grin grows on his face despite his efforts to push it down. Eddie’s comment made Richie's heart pound so much that he could barely even pay attention to Stanley's distant jabber about how obnoxious he is. But he definitely doesn’t like Eddie. Not at all


End file.
